The book of lost things
by jade-requiem
Summary: Gabriel had everything. Perfect looks, wealth, talent and power. The perfect life, or so Draco believes. But little does he know, that the innocent Gabriel’s life is far from what he thought. Not that his own is any easier when he's the demon heir. Dm/Hp.
1. Prologue: Faith

**Summary:** Gabriel had everything. Perfect looks, wealth, talent and power. The perfect life, or so Draco believes. But little does he know, that the innocent Gabriel's life is far from what he thought. Not that his own is a piece of cake when he's the demon heir.

**Warnings:** Hard M. This is a fic where male slash is the predominant pairing. (Meaning guy on guy stuff.) Incest-_ish_, Paedophilia, non-con (rape), dub-con (questionable consent.) swearing, violence. AU. I'd say the characters are somewhat OOC. (_**Possible**_ _main character death_.) I have forewarned you, take them _**all**_ seriously.

This is a _**very**_ twisted love story, so read at your own risk.

It involves much self contemplation to actually understand. I wrote this intending it to be something where the reader must do some serious thinking and slowly piece things together. (It is both far more complicated than **Crossroads**, my other story and yet also simpler. So if you don't get that, chances are you won't get this.) For those that were able to follow along last time this story was up—it will be no different. I decided to leave the original exactly as it was.

Eventual Draco/Harry but until then, there will be others. (Not too detailed.)

**Disclaimer:** This is a work of fanfiction, written purely to entertain myself and (hopefully) a few others. The world and characters belong entirely to J.K. Rowling, (OC's excluded) and I lay no claim to them whatsoever!

* * *

_**The book of lost things**_

* * *

**Prologue**

**Faith**

* * *

_I can't recall exactly, the date that it happened. I was young, but I do remember glancing out the window and finally realising that he wasn't coming. That the promise meant nothing to him. It wasn't anything but empty, meaningless words. Said solely for the benefit of keeping me quiet. To continue believing in him._

_Actually, I think I was five. _

_---_

Harry _hated_ that he was to attend a different school. A school in his birth country, granted. But he hadn't set foot on British soil since he'd left as a baby and now he was back and being shipped off to yet another boarding school. One of the most prestigious and expensive... one for the elites. Possibly the best school to hone his natural magical talents... and he hated it.

Even if was his own fault. There was no one else to blame for his current situation. The young green-eyed teen had purposefully been disobeying his guardian's command for some time now. Gradually toeing the line and extending his rebellion a little at a time and now, he was paying the price for his disobedience. He was being forced to leave the school which had become his home for the past eight years and made to attend another school so very alien to him.

A school closer to _Him._

Though, the thirteen year-old had to admit that this school was nothing if not very impressive in appearance. True, Hightres, his last school in France, was far from mediocre. It had been huge, very high-tech and looked to be more an institute or perhaps even a modern hospital than an actual school. The majority of the place had been made of glass and steel, it was retro whereas Whitecliffe seemed like something that may jump out at him from a history book or a even a fantasy novel.

The grand structure was definitely old. A castle made up of turrets and towers and battlements. All slate coloured and worn but still highly impressive.

Harry had also been told—on numerous occasions—that his father had attended this very school and so had his mother. Though Harry never got very much more information than that, but that was enough to make the youth curious.

Stepping quietly from the chauffeured car, Harry studied the scene before him.

Actually, he wouldn't have minded attending the school at all if he still had his parents but he didn't. They had died years ago when Harry was only a baby, leaving him in the care of their close friend. Although, Harry was never permitted to call the man by his name and only ever allowed to address him as _Sir_.

In all honesty, from what his guardian had said of Harry's father, the boy couldn't see how on earth the two men had come to like each other at all. They couldn't possibly be any more opposite than they were and yet, somehow they had become the best of friends.

"Gabriel!" Called the lovely, deep voice of Cedric Diggory.

Harry _really_ hated being called Gabriel, too.

What had his parents been thinking when they named him? Although, he would admit that the name was a lovely one. He just didn't think it suited him too well. It sounded far too feminine for his liking.

"Yes?" He inquired, his voice lilted ever so slightly.

"C'mon Gabriel," Cedric beckoned, his voice too contained hints of a French accent. "At least you'll have Wood and me, right?" He heaved one of Harry's excessively heavy trunks from the large Rolls Royce that was parked in front of the stairs. Harry assumed they led to the Foyer of the school.

The sable-haired boy sighed in both frustration and defeat. "Would you at least call me Harry? You know how much I hate being called Gabriel—"

"Because it makes you 'sound like a girl,'" Cedric quoted back, with a roll of his eyes. "Yes, I know. And no matter how much you deny it, I will still stand by the fact that you suit the name Gabriel as opposed to 'Harry'. Even Harris would be better than that."

Harry glowered darkly at the ruggedly handsome older boy. They were close friends. One of Harry's only friends, actually. Well, that and his body guard of sorts. Both Oliver Wood and Cedric Diggory were specifically chosen by his steward to protect him from others that may want to take his magic—or try.

"Why do I even put up with you?" Harry groused, with a tiny shake of his head. He pulled his satchel from the back seat of the car.

"Because you'd miss us both terribly," Oliver Wood said, in his thick Scottish tongue. He appeared in the doorway to the school and quickly went to assist in the unpacking of the car.

"Of course," Harry muttered and slung his satchel over his shoulder.

"Ready Harry?"

The youngest of the three sighed once more. "As ready as I'll ever be," he murmured softly and gave the attractive Scot a smirk. "After you, gentlemen," he intoned imperiously with a grand gesture to the door. Cedric shot Harry a small, encouraging smile while Oliver chuckled openly.

"Where are these to go?"

"Follow me," Oliver said, he he hauled yet two more trunks from the car and set out for the school's entrance doors.

Peter, the chauffeur, nodded to the boys as they left the car behind.

"So, what do you think of your new school, Harry?" Oliver asked, knowing the boy preferred the nickname to that of his given.

"Dull and grey," the youngest of the three replied, keeping the truth of his thoughts to himself. The place was far from dull and grey. It was exactly what he would have expected from an actual medieval castle. Rich with tapestries and gorgeous paintings and fine art. He briefly wondered how the place had remained so... untouched. Surely more than half the stuff should have been nicked by now?

"Still upset about the change in scenery?" Cedric queried. "I had thought that you'd have wanted to see the school your parents attended. I mean, I know I would. Think of this as an opportunity."

"Diggory, give it a rest," Oliver muttered with a small smile. "I think Harry is merely mourning the loss of his freedom."

Cedric nodded and the three proceeded to the Foyer just as Harry expected. He was greeted by a severe looking woman, with her hair pulled back from his face in a tight bun. She appeared to adore tartan clothing. The woman's piercing eyes gave the three a very stern once over.

"Misters..." her lip twitched a moment and she cleared her throat. "Gentlemen. The headmaster was wishing to see you all immediately. Leave you're things here, they can be collected on your way back. We will then discuss your dorms and classes."

The woman gestured to the door just to the side of the desk.

All three boys slipped through the door into the headmaster's room without further prodding. Harry felt more than a little apprehensive of the impending meeting. Anyone who had that woman as a second in command had to be worse then her, right?

He had heard stories of Dumbledore but never seen him. The man was meant to be extremely powerful. He was well known for the defeat of the great demon Grindwald and numerous other uprisings. However, he hadn't been able to stop the rise of Voldemort one of the strongest demons now known to the human race and apparently, his heir, Draco Malfoy also attended this school.

So perhaps the old man was no longer strong enough to stop what was happening around him as he once had?

Carefully, Harry peered into the headmaster's room, unsure what to expect.

The man that they met next wasn't _anything_ like what the trio had imagined. He was old, with long white hair and a beard but worst of all, if Harry could claim that the previous teacher had a decent fashion sense, this man's was positively horrible. He was decked out in a bright purple business suit, with florescent yellow stars adorning it and a clashing bright orange and green tie that wasn't even put on straight.

Harry felt himself being sick. This man had been one of his child-hood idols.

"I trust you're journey was well, gentlemen?" The jovial old man asked.

"Quite, well Sir. Thank-you," Cedric replied, the first it seemed to wake from the headmaster's garment-induced stupor.

"Please, take a seat. Sherbet lemon?"

The teens seated themselves on the available seating, whilst politely declining the proffered sweet.

"Indeed," the old man nodded, a bright smile adoring his face. "Now to the point, I think. It is halfway through the first term so the adjustment time may take a little longer than usual. As it is, we do not usually accept students so late into a term but, you three are a special case. I understand that your studies shouldn't suffer too much. That you were already at the top of your class when you left."

"That's right, Sir," Harry agreed with a slight nod, speaking for the other two seated on each of his sides.

Again, the old man nodded. "Might I inquired as to why you have all transferred now?"

Both Cedric and Oliver appeared uncomfortable but remained quiet as Harry again spoke on their behalf.

"My guardian wanted the best education for me that money could buy," Harry replied easily, "and didn't believe I was getting that at Hightres. So I was sent here. I can only assume that the same can be said of both Cedric and Oliver?"

The headmaster nodded, though Harry could clearly see that he was working something out. The expression on his face was far too bright. He was going to have to keep an eye out on the man. It wasn't that he didn't trust him, he was just slightly odd but still, he couldn't start messing in Harry's business. Or even his guardian's. Harry knew that his steward would be extremely miffed were Dumbledore to start interfering in their life.

--xXx--

"My eyes!" Exclaimed Oliver, theatrically. He hitched his burden up."The image has been burned into the back of my retinas!"

"Oh shhh, it wasn't that bad," Harry said dismissively, while he followed behind Cedric as they wove down and about the halls.

"Are you kidding? It wasn't bad, it was worse!"

"Argh, whatever. Just quit with the whining for a bit, would you? Sometimes you'd think I was the eldest of us three."

Cedric smirked at Harry over his shoulder. "You are far more serious than most thirteen year-olds should be," the boy conceded. He looked down to the map of the school layout. "There should be a stairs case around here that leads to the Gryffindor dorms."

Harry groaned, "Gods, everything looks the same," he said, almost certain he had seen that exact same patch of wall more than once already.

"We should be thankful that everyone's still in class," Oliver murmured, finally coming down from his high. "Imagine how much harder things would be then?"

"We could ask for directions then," Harry pointed out and sighed. Then he plopped himself down on the floor. "I know, I'll stay here and you guys can come back once you've found my room."

"Get up," the Scot intoned, wearily. "If I must suffer through this, so must you."

"I think this is it," Cedric announced as he eyed a large stairway, a little ways off from Harry and Oliver. "Gryffindor tower."

Eagerly, Harry bounded up and over to his other friend. "It does look like the one in the map," he admitted. Frowning a moment, he made his way up the stairs, followed closely by both his companions.

The room he was greeted with was homely. All deep crimson and gold in colour and circular in shape. With comfortable looking sofas and ottomans scattered about. There was the odd table and of course, the large fireplace that was burning brilliantly away.

"Well, isn't this darling?" Cedric asked as he glanced about.

Harry snickered and glanced up through his fringe to peer at the other. "Darling?" He questioned, amusement infusing his tone.

"Don't mock me, Angel," Cedric murmured and ducked as Harry took a swing at him. "All right, all right, I won't call you angel."

"You had better not," Harry threatened, though it was without heat.

"Children, please," Oliver intervened as he dodged between the two. "Harry no hitting Cedric, you know what a big baby he is." The latter opened his mouth only to produce an indignant sound. "And Cedric you should know better than calling Harry 'Angel' you know how much he detests that name."

Harry glared and plopped down into one of the many seats. "What do you think about that... Sorting test we did?"

"I still think the way they have this school split into quadrants is ridiculous," Oliver replied instantly. "The way our school was sorted seemed so much better. But to sort us all by our magical ability... and personality. Actually, Cedric, how did you get into Gryffindor, I'd have sworn you'd end up in Hufflepuff."

"Actually, so did I," Cedric conceded, not taking his friend's words as a insult.

"It was probably all based on me," Harry answered with a shrug, earning the attention of both his friends. "You had to share the same dorm as me, even if there are a few years difference between us, you guys wouldn't be able to share a dorm if we weren't in the same house and if we did, everyone would question it more than they will already."

"Never knew logic was a strong point of yours, Gabriel," Cedric grinned, light heartedly.

"Come on," Oliver intervened with a heartfelt sigh. "We still have to unpack out things and then shower and change before we start our new classes."

"We have to find our room first," Harry felt the need to point out as he gestured to yet another set so stairs that spiralled up near the fireplace.

"This place is almost as bad as Hightres," Oliver muttered in complete disgust, looking truly upset.

"You're just lazy," Harry said with a roll of his eyes and ascended the stairway.

The trio were sharing a room at the top of the tower. It was one of the private suites usually reserved for guests, although Harry assumed his steward had paid very highly to secure the place for him and his guards.

"This isn't so bad," Cedric murmured as he dropped all his trunks. "Not quite what we're used to at Hightres, but not awful, either."

"I beg to differ," Oliver muttered as he sank down on Harry's bed. "Harry want to switch beds with me?"

"No."

"Spoil sport."

Harry skilfully dodged a pillow as Oliver threw it at him.

The youngest glanced around at his new resting chambers. The room wasn't exactly up to his standards but Cedric was right, it could have been far worse. The beds were large and comfortable, there was a modest fire place and suitable drawers and wardrobes for their clothing. And if Harry's suspicions were right about the random door next to the fire place, they also had a private, if small, bathroom.

"I'm having a shower," he announced to the room at large, snatching up his new uniform he marched through the door to checkout the bathroom.

--xXx--

Neville Longbottom was the name of the boy who was sent to fetch him for his first class. Potions. It turned out and as it happened, one of his favourite classes. However, said class was also located within the deepest parts of the school. The deepest and coldest and since it was already starting into winter, the air was positively freezing.

"Careful of the Slytherins," Harry's nervous guide warned him. "Our teacher favours them and they have a tendency to play pranks on us. Especially Malfoy. He's the worst of the lot and since he's teacher's pet..."

Neville shuddered.

"Don't worry, Neville," Harry soothed, as the pair navigated down yet another set of corridors. "I'm sure I can handle him."

The shy boy gave Harry a disbelieving look. "You do know who Malfoy is, right?" He asked nervously and blinked at the other's piercing green stare.

"Of course," Harry nodded, along blithely. "Voldemort's heir; _The_ Great Draco Malfoy."

Neville gave a startled yelp.

Harry turned to his companion, fearing the boy had somehow managed to injure himself. He just came off as that type of person, and considering their location it was a very likely possibility. "What's the matter? Did you hit something?"

"You, y-you aren't..."

The transfer student frowned. "What? I can't understand you."

"V-vol."

"Voldemort?" Harry cut in with a frown, trying to get to the bottom of Neville's sudden problem. "What about him?"

"What the poor bloke is tryin' ta ask is whether of no' you support him," interrupted a sandy-haired Irishman. "The name's Seamus Finnegan, by the way." He held out a hand which Harry shook casually.

"No I don't support Voldemort," Harry answered truthfully, causing both other boy's flinch. He frowned. "What's with you lot?"

"We never speak his name," Seamus whispered, carefully. His eyes darted around nervously. "They say that doing so is to bring his wrath down upon yourself."

"And yet I still live," Harry deadpanned.

Seamus scowled and pulled back a bit. "I just thought ta warn you," he muttered, bitterly. "I don't see why I even bothered now. Fine, see whether I help you when he decides ta ruin your pretty face."

"Who aren't you going to help if their pretty face is ruined?" Drawled a voice from the darkness.

Harry watched curiously as his two companions stiffened.

"Mind you're own business, Malfoy!" Someone growled, materialising out of no where. A bright, red-headed someone.

"What have I told _you_ about telling me what is and isn't my business?"

Turning, Harry peered through the darkness and found himself staring into the striking face of Draco Malfoy.

He was tall and very lithely built. Quite pale in complexion, much like Harry himself and he had intense, quick-silver eyes but the most interesting feature of the boy, had to be his hair. It _had_ to be bleached, as there was no way Harry could see that his natural colour could be so... colourless.

The other stared back at him just as intensely.

"Do you bleach you hair?" Harry found himself asking.

The redhead let out a mighty guffaw and the transfer student immediately discovered a hand clamped firmly over his mouth by Seamus, as the boy tried to manoeuvre him carefully away from the blonde's line of sight.

"No I don't bleach my hair," the blonde gave a slight sneer. He cocked his head inquisitively. "And who might you be?"

"Do you lot intend to loiter about outside my class?" Asked a a silken voice.

Immediately, the remaining students—the nameless red-head, Seamus, Neville, Harry and lastly Draco entered the dully lit room. As was expected, all along the walls was line with various jars of strange potions ingredients, though mostly Harry thought it was for show and to scare the wits out of the students that had this class.

"I'm not finished talking to you yet," came the warm whisper drawled into his ear.

Harry turned and gave Draco an odd look as the boy walked off and seated himself next to a dark-haired girl and a rather solid looking boy.

"Are you so dim-witted that you are unable to locate yourself a seat?"

The green-eyed boy knew that voice. His head snapped over to the source and into the sneering face of Severus Snape. Almost at once, the man's features morphed into incomprehension and what may have also passed as dread.

"Hello, _Sir_," Harry smiled, as he sauntered to the front of the class and inevitably, Severus.

The potions master instantly pinched the bridge of his nose and began muttering to himself. "I am your professor, you insipid child," he said quietly once Harry was in earshot. "You will treat me as such while in the classroom, do you understand?"

Harry nodded once, imperceptibly.

"Good, now introduce yourself to the class," the teacher intoned, with an air of boredom. "You are also to stay behind after class for your show of disrespect towards a teacher."

Turning on his heel, Harry faced the class. Noting all the faces fixed on his in rapt attention. With one last glance back at his professor and a roll of his eyes at that man, the Gryffindor focused on the other occupants of the class.

"Well, I've just transferred here from Hightres where I was schooled for the past eight years," Harry began, tapping a finger against his lip thoughtfully. "My two best friends transferred with me, though both are fifth year, students..." he grinned a little. "Potions happens to be one of my favourite classes due to a _wonderful_ tutor I once had—"

"What were you _really_ tutored in?" Someone rudely called out.

Harry promptly turned a flattering shade of pink. "Not what you're insinuating, I assure you," he replied, smoothly.

"That's it," Severus interrupted. "Take a seat."

"He hasn't even given us his name," pointed out a bushy-haired girl from the Gryffindor side of the room.

"I'm H-Gabriel," Harry replied, only a little sheepishly. "Gabriel Black."

* * *

--xXx--

* * *

So in the end I left all as it was.


	2. Chapter one: Ignorance

This is just a repost of the old chapter. Nothing new. Sorry. Chapter three: Trust, however is new :)

* * *

**Chapter one**

**Ignorance**

* * *

_It's strange, perhaps to note how I made friends with my first and very best friend all those years ago. He was shy, mostly. But once he got talking, there was absolutely no way of shutting him up. He was even able to stay the night sometimes as a treat for me, because at that point, I was kept away from almost everyone else. I wasn't allowed to be 'tainted' or so I was always told and it never occurred to me what they meant by that._

_I guess I understand that now._

-----

Draco Malfoy coolly observed as the upper year Slytherin's held a meeting in their common room, not really caring what was going on. He'd seen enough of the meetings and been the one to lead them most of the time and now, the fifteen-soon-to-be-sixteen year-old could only watch the proceedings with growing boredom.

This time the meeting had been called for those who were to be _Initiated_ after the end of year masquerade ball. Well, those within the Slytherin house, anyway.

Standing from his usual seat, the blonde demon moved to exit the room. He no longer felt the need to oversee the discussions. Quite sure that by now at least Pansy Parkinson should be quite capable of such on her own. Before he was able to set one foot outside of the common room, however, a small sandy haired boy came up to him timidly.

"What?" Draco prompted, uninterestedly.

"I was... That is... Tr-Tracey Winston..."

"Tell the stupid bint to bugger off," the blonde replied, still looking and sounding indifferent. "Say that she was a decent shag but I've had better and not to bother me _ever_ again."

The small boy—probably a first year—nodded. "Yes, Master Malfoy." Then he scampered off to repeat the message and likely to bear the brunt of the recipient's anger. Not that Draco cared, of course, but he _did_ rather like the fact that the boy had called him 'Master.'

The Slytherin prince cocked his head thoughtfully. That did have a nice ring to it. Maybe he should have it enforced that he was to be called Master Malfoy from now on?

Pressing the thought aside for later contemplation, the blonde slid silently from the room and out into the darkened dungeon halls. The air was crisp against his exposed skin and he revelled in it. Winter's chill was much preferred to the heat of summer, a reason why he enjoyed the icy dungeons compared to the rest of the ancient school.

He passed few people as he made his way around the school rather absently, but the few he did pass would start muttering about him as soon as they believed he was unable to hear them. It was generally the same things. Mostly about how he had broken so-and-sos heart or how he was now pursuing what's-her-name. Sometimes they would talk about the people he had _Racked_. Although there wasn't many of those. Not these days, anyway, he was far too busy trying to disperse of the idiots that thought to follow him around like love sick puppies and having all of them _Racked_ was just a total waste of his time.

No, Draco was more inclined to publicly humiliate people then to have them disembowelled slowly... Although, sometimes he would admit that watching people being tortured brightened his day and helped dissuade the braver of the schools inhabitants from doing anything foolish against him as well as ridding Draco of the many leeches that sought power and recognition.

But he was a Malfoy. Heir to the Dark Lord Voldemort as well as the vast Malfoy fortune. He was damn gorgeous and knew it, using that knowledge to his full advantage. And despite all the bad things about him, people were _still_ attracted to him. He figured that most of it all came down to the fact that people were scared of what Voldemort was currently up to and being Draco's eye candy ensured that they were safe until the blonde lost interest in them.

_Idiots..._

It was for this reason that Draco knew he could have practically anyone he wanted. That no one would turn him down. _Almost anyone..._ He mused bitterly and discarded the thought with a scowl.

Unsure of where he was going, just knowing that he needed to be outside, Draco soon found himself in the upper parts of the school. A place he generally avoided as much as possible, due to it being the territory of the Gryffindor's and Ravenclaw's. The house of idiots that acted before they thought and the know-it-alls.

_At least they aren't Hufflepukes,_ the Slytherin prince considered with a disgusted grimace.

Taking a left followed by another then climbing the steep stairwell, Draco wound up into Astronomy tower. While not the highest point of the castle, it served the dark heir's purpose as he swept into the shadowed chamber and immediately set about trying to locate the packet of cigarettes in one of his school blazer's pockets.

_Parkinson had better not have taken them again,_ he mentally snarled until his hand clasped the small rectangular box._ Got you..._

His thoughts stilled as did his motions when he glanced up, out the chamber window and caught sight of the last person he had expected to find all alone and sitting with his long legs dangling over the battlements, looking for all the world like he was about to throw himself from the wall.

It was his cousin, Gabriel.

The boy's midnight coloured tresses fell about his face in waves and was being tugged at almost playfully by the evening breeze, obscuring any glance that Draco might capture of the other's stunning face. The large charcoal jersey the Gryffindor wore did nothing to hide the boy's lightly built frame, reminding Draco of how fragile the other looked. But the Slytherin knew the the boy's appearance was deceptive. His magic rivalled Draco's own in strength.

Quietly, Draco edged across the room, navigating around the furniture until he came to the door that opened out to where his cousin sat serenely, bathed in the pallid light of the moon as tiny white snow flakes fell from the heavens.

Draco found it peculiar that the other was unaccompanied for once. Usually the boy was surrounded heavily by his pack of Gryffindors or his two best friends, Diggory and Wood. How Draco _loathed_ those two boys, but he understood the necessity of having them around. They protected Gabriel, or Harry as the boy was so fond of being called—something that Draco didn't quite understand.

One of many things, actually.

Harry was such a... mediocre name, at best and while Gabriel wasn't like Draco's rather unique name, it was still far better. He had heard once that the reason Harry hated being called Gabriel was because it sounded too feminine. While Draco conceded the boy was somewhat right, he still thought the name suited his cousin. Especially since Harry seemed to have an affinity with the elements. Water and air especially.

It was with these thoughts that the air around Harry picked up, swirling around him in a tiny tornado of wind and fresh snow flakes. It also brought Draco's attention to the fact that his cousin was just a push away from being out of his life for good. Just one push, either by Draco's hand or a strong enough gust conjured by him to get rid of Harry once and for all and the blonde doubted that even Harry's skill with air would save him from his fate.

"You do realise how dangerous it is to sit there don't you, Gabriel?" The Slytherin drawled apathetically, lighting up a cigarette and taking a deep drag as he did so. "Anyone could come along and push you off."

It was beside the point that if anyone harmed Harry in anyway they were practically signing their own death sentence. Wood and Diggory would hunt down the perpetrator and tear the offending person or persons apart.

Not that they'd be able to lift a finger against Draco if he chose to kill Harry. They could try, but Draco doubted they'd get very far.

The Gryffindor turned, allowing Draco to catch the other's bright emerald eyes. "I'm not too worried about having someone attempting to push me. As it is, I have you to watch my back for me, don't I _cousin_?"

Draco gazed back at the other evenly, exhaling a steady stream of smoke. "What makes you so sure that you're safe with me?" He asked.

"Because I'd be dead already," Harry replied, his eyes weighing Draco carefully and he tilted his head quizzically. _Because I know you'd never do anything to upset your mother,_ Harry thought but instead said; "I'd have been killed years ago if that wasn't so. Statutes and Obligations be damned. You aren't one to play by the rules."

"You sound so sure of yourself," Draco smirked in amusement as he brought his cigarette back to his lips for another drag and lent casually against the doorframe into the castle. He studied the other boy closely, noticing that the other didn't seem frightened at all. Usually all it took was a glare from Draco and people would wet themselves, but here he was, essentially threatening the other, and Harry wasn't afraid in the least.

He never was.

"You may hate me," Harry continued completely unperturbed, "but I _know_ you would never kill me."

"And _what_ makes you so certain?" Draco inquired, eying the other with a cold and calculating glance.

"How was Yule break?" Harry asked instead, totally flipping off Draco's question. Something that the blonde absolutely hated and he had a feeling Harry was all too aware of that, as well. The Gryffindor tilted his head to the opposite side and carefully pulled his legs back over the battlements so that he sat facing Draco instead. "Is Aunt Cissy well? Did she like what I got her?"

"Mother would like anything that you gave for her," the blonde voiced bitterly, as a slight sneer made it's way onto his face. _She'd adore anything from her dead twin brother's son._

The Gryffindor smiled brightly but it was instantly wiped from his face by the next words that spilt from the blonde's mouth. "I suppose she would have like that gift, too," the Slytherin intoned, almost pleasantly. Then he settled sharp grey eyes on his companion, "had I given it to her," he finished.

For long minutes, the green-eyed boy peered at his cousin in total disbelief. The blonde stared back with a burning intensity that would cause most other people to run and hide. Harry sighed and shook his tousled locks. _The closest thing I may possibly ever have had as a brother,_ he mused sadly and with a frown,_ and he had to be Draco bloody Malfoy. Bastard extraordinaire._ "You're such a wanker," Harry muttered, aloud in resignation.

"I don't need to wank," Draco pointed out, exhaling lazy circles of smoke. "I have people flocking to share my bed. I really have no need of it," he eyed his cousin intensely, looking him up and down. "You on the other hand—"

"Don't find it necessary seeking pleasure from various partners," Harry interrupted, looking vaguely disturbed. "I'm happy as I am."

"Right," the blonde muttered, doubtfully then cocked his head to the side. "I'll wager that you're still as innocent as the day you were born. You do realise that once Wood and Diggory leave _that_ won't last long," he said, knowingly and let out a small trail of puffs. "You should be rid of that now while you still have a choice in who you lose it to."

The smaller boy gazed evenly back at the blonde, a tiny odd smile tugging at his full pink lips even as a rosy flush crested his cheeks. "I'm touched that you're so concerned about my state of virtue," he said, his voice thick with amusement.

"Pfft," the blonde smirked. "It's not you I'm concerned about but the fact that you're dragging our name through the mud. Disgracing one of the most feared demonic families to walk this side of the human plain."

"Don't you mean, I'm dragging _my_ name through the mud?" Harry tossed back, narrowing his emerald-eyes dangerously, the smile wiped from his face. "_I_ bear the name Black and you carry the title of Malfoy." _That's right Draco, show me exactly how little you think of me,_ the Gryffindor thought dejectedly.

Draco, too narrowed his eyes slightly. "But you forget, _cousin_," he hissed, "that we are almost close enough in blood to call each other by half-brother and that your dishonour is reflected on me, as well as it is on mother and aunt Bella.

"You're _the_ young Lord Black now that uncle Sirius has vanished and is as good as dead to the world. You're the one who's meant to uphold and honour the old customs of the Ancient and most noble house of Black. To make our forefather's proud. And yet, here you are allowing our great ancestors name to fall to ruins because you're too _weak_ to protect yourself from those who should fear you."

"You may consider me pathetic, Draco," the sable-haired boy drawled out, in perfect Malfoy fashion and somehow managing to hide how hurt he really was, "and say that _I'm_ ruining our family name, but I'm not the self proclaimed _whore_ of the school."

"You will be next year," the Slytherin drawled, harshly. His face had gone completely blank and his eyes had chilled to an icy silver. "But it won't be because you _want_ the title."

A strange expression flittered across Harry's gorgeous face. "We'll see," he murmured.

"Yes we shall," Draco smirked darkly, though his eyes remained cold still. "I'll give you a week at most before you come to me for protection. It'll only get worse after that," he promised softly. _It'll probably be two days, tops,_ Draco reflected in complete disgust.

"You and your power trips," Harry muttered in revulsion, a curious tilt to his head.

The blonde shrugged, indifferently. "How are your Advanced _lessons_ with Severus progressing?" He questioned, nonchalantly and watched with great interest as the smaller boy tensed, slightly. It was always interesting, these bizarre half-conversations, half arguments he shared with Harry. More so when the Gryffindor betrayed his thoughts by his actions.

"As well as they can be," Harry supplied. Not sounding as certain as he had originally. Inwardly, Draco grinned. "As I've heard you mention once or twice, he is a brilliant potions master. Quite possibly the best, yes?"

"Hmm," came Draco's noncommittal reply. He absently flicked the ash from his cigarette.

Harry rose from his seat with a sigh. "Is there anything else that you were wanting, Draco?" He enquired, politely. Slowly strolling over to his older and taller cousin. "Curfew is soon and I unlike you, don't have a pass to wander the school until the early hours of the morning."

_More like you don't scare the shit out of all the faculty, like I do,_ Draco thought in dark amusement. _Except Dumbledore and Severus..._

Again, the Slytherin shrugged casually, fighting off what he really wanted to say.

Harry inclined his head slightly. "Goodnight, Draco. And next time you write home, send Aunt Cissy my love."

Said Slytherin prince didn't verbally respond, instead he quietly watched with narrowed eyes as his younger cousin walked away from him yet again, slowly bleeding into the darkened, barely lit halls of the room beyond.

_Why?_ Draco thought resentfully, he took one last pull from his cigarette before he dropped it into the slightly snow covered ground a few feet away and glanced up at the lonely crescent moon that hung low in the sky.

It's pale light reflected off the fine linked chain that hung from Draco's neck, instantly drawing his attention to the tiny, frosted-crystal Narcissus that hung from it's platinum coils. Roughly, the demon heir drew the cool, silvery links to his mouth and pressed his lips to the small charm.

A gift that was meant for his mother, but should have been rightfully his.

--xXx--

For as long as Harry could remember, all he had ever wanted in life was a family. A warm, loving family. A mother to send him letters when he was away attending Hightres. A father to show interest in his hobbies and a brother or sister with which to share his secrets. Instead, Harry had been graced with a cold and powerful lord.

Not that Harry wasn't extremely grateful to the man who had taken him in and raise him in the stead of his deceased parents. Things could have been far worse for him, Harry knew. He could have been placed in an orphanage and then where would he be now?

For a while there he had been angry that his guardian had failed to mention the important fact that the young Black heir actually had a family out there. Why the man decided to keep that a secret was a mystery to Harry. Though he supposed, in hindsight that the other had done so to protect him.

Even if his steward was extremely cold most of the time, there were the times when he showed Harry that he could love him. His icy persona would melt away to reveal the type of person the Gryffindor would have been happy to accept as his father instead of just 'care-taker.' But those moments were somewhat seldom and generally passed as quickly as they came, leaving Harry alone with a strange sort of emptiness and longing for something he knew he'd never have.

Until he met Draco and discovered they were first cousins. That the blonde's mother, Narcissa was the older twin sister of Harry's own father, Regulus, and by default of the bond shared by all demonic twins, that he could also be considered Draco's half brother. Granting Harry his deepest desire.

The prospect of an _actual_ family.

The dream was short lived, however and based solely on the wishes and dreams of an innocent child.

Harry sighed softly. It seemed he was meant to be alone. Sure he had wonderful friends. Cedric and Oliver but how long would they stay with him, really? Draco had been correct in saying the that older boys would be leaving Harry at the end of the year and the Gryffindor, while not on unfriendly terms with his house mates, couldn't exactly call any of them friends. Except perhaps the quietly loyal Neville.

Sure Harry enjoyed the company of Hermione, the resident bookworm and possible genius. Ron, too had been a potential friend but that had gone horribly wrong after the 'Charlie incident' and so things had gotten a little strained between them, since then. As for Seamus, well Harry was rather certain the boy's interests in him were far from platonic in nature and he really wasn't wanting a relationship with him.

There was perhaps only one person beside his steward that had been a constant in Harry's short life. His mentor and wet nurse as a child; Severus Snape.

"Sevy!" Harry called loudly as he burst into his alchemy teacher's room. The class was empty, so the boy made his way around the desks to the very front of the class and up the tiny stair well to the side that led to the man's private chambers. "Sev–"

"You will cease immediately," threatened a dark figure, coldly. "How many times must I tell you that you are forbidden to to call me by that ridiculous name. Endearment or not."

"Nice to see you, too," Harry muttered and flopped onto the scowling man's bed.

Severus' fingers were instantly at the bridge of his nose, as he tried to calm himself down. Harry was certain it wasn't working out too well and grinned mischievously. "Get off my bed this instant, insolent child!" The brooding man barked.

Harry snickered, but did as was ordered. "You weren't saying that the other day," the Gryffindor boy murmured, lowly and batted his thick inky lashes coyly. He watched in a perverted pleasure as the potions master twitched on the spot. His already pallid features losing yet more colour.

How Harry loved to goad the older man.

"You aren't to joke about those sorts of things," the head of Slytherin house stated, softly. Causing Harry to inwardly grin at his success. "You don't know who might hear you."

"But _Sir_," the boy started, and moved towards his companion with a seductive gait. "Who's going to hear us?" Trying to see how far the other would allow him to proceed, Harry reached out to the other and ran a hand down Severus' chest. Only to be pushed quite firmly and stubbornly away.

"No, Gabriel."

"Harry," the boy hissed out in frustration and took a step back. He glared up into deep obsidian pools. "I hate being called Gabriel! And why not?"

"You're acting like a child," Severus voiced, disapprovingly.

Harry blinked.

"Damn it Severus!" He ignored the man's arched brow and flung himself back on the large, black velvet covered bed. Burying himself in the generous mound of pillows that littered the top. Yes, he may have been whinging like a spoilt brat but he really hadn't cared. Even if Severus' words stung, he could take them. The man was full of scathing remarks, that he used to hurt, but Harry was willing to admit that they generally came no where near as Draco's potent barbs.

His last were still on Harry's mind.

It was a coincidence or perhaps a mere testament to how well the pair knew each other, that it seemed almost like Severus had read his mind and voiced his thoughts not a moment later.

"You ran in to Draco," he stated.

The distressed boy gave a brief nod of assent, even though it wasn't needed and snuggled further down into the soft duvet. The eldest male sighed and seated himself gingerly next to the boy invading his bed. "And what did my darling Godson say this time?" He asked.

"Just that I'm a disgrace to our ancestors," Harry muttered. "And that his predictions for next year include me somehow managing to..."

"Rob him of his title for... _most desired_?" Severus finished, diplomatically.

Harry's lip quirked upward knowingly as he peered out from his pillows. "Well that's one way of putting it. Although I'm sure you know the words we both exchanged."

"Of course," the dark-haired man acknowledged.

"Draco even went so far as to suggest I rid myself of my virginity now while I still had a choice in my partners," Harry added, lightly. His slight humour from earlier returning to him once more. Albeit, darkly.

Severus gave him an odd, almost concerned look. "Was he offering?"

The Black peer up at the other, his countenance betraying how disturbed he felt by that thought. "No!" he cried aghast, his face flushed. "Draco is many things but I don't think even he's quite that depraved, yet."

The potions professor said nothing, although he looked terribly doubtful of that statement.

"How'd you know what I was going to say?" Harry asked, not wanting to think about the possibility that Draco may have been offering to 'deflower' him. "Before, that is?"

He knew the other would understand him perfectly. Severus usually always did, even if he pretended not to.

"I know my Slytherins," Severus drawled, sneering slightly at the Gryffindor. "And I've heard rumours and caught Draco in the act of defending the honour of his _family_ more than once," the man said more soberly. He gave Harry a pointed look.

"I don't understand him," the Gryffindor groaned. "And I doubt I ever will. He hates me and yet warns me about things to make sure I'm not harmed. I know he only does it so Aunt Cissy isn't hurt, I mean I am the last link she has with Father... but that time with Nott? That wasn't necessary."

He shuddered as he recalled all the blood that had poured from Nott's body and his shrill screams as Draco, quite literally had him torn apart. Piece by piece. The entirely worse thing being that the Dark heir had ensured the tortured boy lived through it all and only allowed Nott the mercy of death once he was satisfied that there was nothing else he could perform on the weedy looking Slytherin to inflict more pain.

"Draco has a rather unique way of dealing with things," Severus conceded, slowly. "Usually in a destructive manner. It's all he knows. All he's been brought up to know But that is not for us to speak about," he cleared his throat abruptly.

"You should also congratulate Wood on his foresight into Draco not handing over your Yule gift to Narcissa," the alchemy professor murmured, successfully drawing the green-eyed boy's attention to other thoughts. "I gave her the music box like you requested. She was quite taken with it."

"And Draco didn't see?" Harry asked softly, his eyes drifted to half-mast as Severus' fingers found themselves into his messy hair and began petting him.

"I made sure Draco wasn't present," the man confirmed. "That boy's jealousy and temper combined are a thing to be feared."

That seemed an odd statement to say, but Harry wasn't too focused on his tutors words any longer, as the man's touch soothed the Gryffindor, until he was nearly falling asleep where he lay.

It didn't stay that way for much longer.

"Your presence has been requested at the _Initiation._"

Harry was instantly up. His body tense as he searched his mentor's dark eyes. "You said I wasn't going," the boy murmured, weakly. "You said _He_ wouldn't want me there. That it would be too dangerous."

He couldn't believe that his steward would be so foolish to _request_ his presence at a place that would have so many high ranking and powerful demons running loose. The six shadow generals would be in attendance. Harry knew he wasn't a killer, but he would be surrounded by them and he knew that he'd be forced to watch what they did best.

The Gryffindor didn't want to endure that again. Once was more than enough.

"Nor was it wise of him having you placed here," Severus pointed out, blandly but his eyes had warmed. "I'm sure you've at least realised by this point, Black, that he has been known to make bad choices. But you needn't worry. When you're not with him, I'll make sure that you are always with me."

"Does he really hate me so much?" Harry asked, grimly. Not really needing an answer or wanting one.

"I don't believe so," Severus assured his upset protégé.

Then he reached forward and into the loose collar of Harry's jersey to stroke the small, pink crystal that dangled around the Gryffindor's slender neck. "You are to make sure you do not removed your charm," the stoic man ordered, sternly. All softness melting away into the person that everyone else had come to know. "I will enforce the protection spells woven into it but it will protect nothing if it's lost."

"Thank-you."

"Don't thank me yet," the other muttered.

* * *

--xXx--


	3. Chapter two: Hope

**

* * *

**

**Chapter two**

**Hope**

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* * *

_

Devastated.

_That is the only word that came even remotely close to how I felt when my first friend left me. Until that time I hadn't thought it possible for one soul to dwell in two bodies, but that's what it seemed. For me, at least. I realise now that it wasn't safe for him to have stayed as long as he had. He was an intelligent boy and discovered very quickly things about me that he shouldn't have and so I had to watch him leave, hoping that one day our paths would cross once more._

_I never knew how soon and yet too late that day would come._

-----

It had been a week.

An entire week since being told of the new Initiation plans. A week since Harry had informed both Cedric and Oliver of the situation. A week since the young lord had spoken more than a few words at a time to anyone.

He knew it was upsetting his friends. It was worrying Severus. Hell, if Harry didn't know any better, he'd say it was even making Draco concerned.

Exhaling softly, the boy closed his eyes. Who was he kidding? He knew Draco didn't care about him. He only put up with Harry because of his mother. Were it not for Narcissa, Harry knew he'd have met his fate long ago.

Slowly, almost painfully Harry drew his bow across Petunia's taut strings and listened to the beautiful, agonised peal she produced. Pressing more forcefully, his fingers darted along her slender neck while his other armed worked furiously, in perfect harmony with his own turbulent emotions. Attempting to drown himself in the mournful melody that his own soul seemed to emit and the pain that was gradually building in his limbs as he moved.

"It's not the end of the world," Cedric commented from his bed. He had his homework propped up in his lap and reference books scattered about the thick duvet.

Harry didn't glance his way.

Cedric sighed. "We'll think of something. I'll even kidnap you and go into hiding myself if that makes you feel any better? And anyway, if you keep that up, you'll end up breaking Petunia."

The younger boy ceased his playing immediately, and tentatively ran his fingers over the now burning strings of his bow.

Breaking her, just wouldn't do.

Gingerly, Harry replaced the dark violin in it's case with Cedric watching in silence. Harry knew that the other boy was just dying to ask him if he'd had any visions. Like everyone else who knew that Harry had been blessed and cursed by the ancient instrument.

Almost everyone was familiar with the dark and bloody past that the Ebony Petunia had and still, despite knowing this, many people had fallen pray to the lure of her prophetic power.

Bizarrely, Draco was one of the few who hadn't tried to use Harry for his skill.

Or perhaps he had been made more aware of it's constraints than the other morons that ran in his circle? It was possible but from what Harry gathered, for the most part Voldemort was still rather secretive about certain things. Even with his heir.

"Why do you never ask?" Harry queried quietly, as he carefully strapped the the violin into it's case and closed the lid. Sealing it within darkness. He turned to his companion as he settled the violin case more securely in his arms, awaiting a response from the older boy. Certain that Cedric would understand.

Harry wasn't disappointed.

Cedric looked slightly uncomfortable. "I figured you'd tell Oliver and me if you ever saw anything worth repeating," he stated honestly. Then more warily, as if not entirely sure of the reaction he'd receive added, "Besides, when Lady Lily had visions, I was told she'd cry blood."

A strange expression quickly flittered across Harry's face and tugged at his lips. "She did," he confessed, already knowing the price Petunia's previous master—his mother—had paid to be able to play the cursed violin. Petunia had showed him the first time he had touched her.

It was a fate he was destined to share.

"Right," Cedric murmured, evidently disturbed as his eyes flickered briefly to the crystal that hung from Harry's collar-like necklace. He wanted to know more, of that Harry was certain, but as always, the other held his curiosity in check and refrained from the one temptation that so many other's had readily yielded.

It was for this reason that Harry was sure Cedric had been chosen as his second guard. Not only was the boy magically talented and strong, his heart was pure and he was fiercely loyal. Not even Oliver could quite top his second in those attributes.

It was because of this that Harry trusted Cedric implicitly. More so than Oliver or even Severus. The latter, Harry knew, had been too easily seduced by power in the past and knew it was all too easy for someone like that to fall again just as simply. As much as he cared about the man, Severus wasn't someone Harry could put his absolute trust in.

Turning away, Harry sighed and affected not to notice Cedric's stare lingering on his charm. Or the way the way the other questioned with his eyes whether the charm would hold out or not. Harry pretended not to see how terrified Cedric really was of the possibility that it wouldn't.

The young Gryffindor already knew the answer to the question but couldn't quite find it in himself to tell his friends. What was the point in trying to prevent the inevitable?

It had happened once already.

And no one had been able to stop the events that were to follow.

"We'll think of something, Gabriel," Cedric reassured him again, not completely unaware of his friend's growing despair. His grey eyes held an unusually hard and serious glint."I have connections with the old Order in the remains of Venice. They owe my family favours. We'll work something out, you'll see."

The younger boy nodded mutely.

It would be nice to believe, even if just for the moment that all Cedric said was true and that he didn't know what awaited him just around the corner. That his steward's order's hadn't all but sealed his fate. He would pretend, just for the sake of his friends that everything would be all right.

_Like always._

Harry gave a was a ghost of it's former brilliance and tainted with a deep and profound sadness.

The uneasiness within the elder boy seemed to increase threefold with Harry's response but he gave a nervous sort of half-smile, in an attempt to to coax cheer from the green-eyed boy and failed horribly. "Does this mean you've sworn off your vow of silence?"

The younger closed dull, jade eyes. "For now."

---xXx---

It was going to be one of _those_ days, Draco surmised when he was woken rather early in the morning by the loud and incessant tapping—no, it sounded more like someone using a sledgehammer to slam repetitively—at his door.

"This had better be important!" He snarled as he rolled over and was quite surprised to find himself without the company of a warm body in his bed. He paused frowning at the rare occurrence.

How on earth had _that_ happened?

"Ah, so the rumours are true then," Pansy muttered as she entered his door and carefully closed it behind her. She was also eying his rather empty bed. "You've become celibate."

"Hardly..." Draco muttered in revulsion. Still attempting to recall why it was that he had slept alone the night before and drawing up complete blanks.

Pansy tsked as her lips quirked up in amusement. "An entire week without shagging someone. That's some record there but I always knew you'd see this my way," the girl continued, ignorant to the fact that Draco wasn't paying her much attention at all. "But I'm glad you saw some sense at least before you slept with the baby Greengrass. I know your only real standard is that the girl has to be good looking and while she's pretty, at least, she is a barely developed child..."

"Spare me your morality speeches," Draco drawled out as he massaged the bridge of his nose. "I really couldn't care less."

Pansy glared at the blonde before donning a wicked smirk. "I ran into Gabriel earlier," she intoned, adopting a bored air and found herself the focus of Draco's attention. "Did you know he's speaking again? Had ourselves an _interesting_ little chat, although it would have been so much better with that bastard Wood minding his own damn business..." she trailed off as though deep in thought as her sleek black tail took agitated sweeps across the floor behind her.

"Stay away from him," Draco warned icily, no longer looking at the girl but attempting to locate his missing boxers and was not having any luck in the process. _Where the fuck did I put them?_

"Oh? From who?" She cooed, batting her eyelashes at him and pouted in that way she knew that he hated. "Gabriel or Wood?"

"Both," the blonde demon snapped having caught her look.

Pansy sighed theatrically. "And here I was hoping to get into the trousers of the most likely candidate to make the Dark Lord's _Seventh_."

Draco froze at that announcement. He hadn't heard word about the Seventh general being replaced. He had almost assumed that there would never be another... It had been _years_ since there were seven. Years since her death...

_But then..._

He narrowed his silver eyes on the dark haired girl and ignored the way her strange cat-like ears flattened slightly. "What?" Draco questioned lowly.

The smile that Pansy gave Draco next was uneasy and held a touch of sadness. "Ironic isn't it?" She asked him instead and nervously brushed a few dark strands of hair from her face. "That Gabriel should be the one to take Lady Lily's place?"

_That has to be a lie_, Draco thought but Pansy never lied. Much as he loathed her at times, she had never once lied to him and he knew she never would. She was one of the few people he put any trust in. She had saved him more than once from different attempts on his life but despite that, and what trust he had in her, Draco still couldn't picture Harry as a killer. Nor could he picture his cousin being willing to bow before anyone, let alone someone who took life so willingly and without remorse.

But that was by far the less troubling revelation.

_Why would The Dark Lord want Gabriel as his Seventh General?_

The Slytherin girl didn't give him time to respond.

"By the way, Professor Snape ordered me to get you out of bed and ready to welcome some high ranking lord within the Dark Lord's Inner circle," Pansy smirked slowly, flashing sharp canines at him. "You've got ten minutes."

--xXx--

It wasn't until an hour later that Draco felt himself even halfway prepared to met his guest and couldn't care less if he knocked the uppity Lord's nose out of joint with his late arrival. Once the Dark Lord was out of the picture, it would be Draco that they would be kissing up to and he already intended to execute more than half the Demon Court.

Most of them were useless. All pretence, little intelligence and driven to obtain more power than they could rightly handle.

Silently, Draco slipped into the garish chamber that was often used for meetings of this kind. He found himself grateful to the discover the room dimly lit for once, with small blue-bell flames instead of the glittery mirrored lamps. Otherwise he suspected he'd have left the chamber later with a powerful headache and in great need of a potent pain reliever.

"Took your time, didn't you?"

Draco fixed cool, grey eyes on the other boy. Weighing him calmly and emotionlessly. It had been how many years now since the other had left? And _his_ sudden reappearance was troublesome. It meant that the Inner circle was restless and now that he thought on it, Draco realised that Pansy hadn't once mentioned the Dark Lord knowing of this unwanted guest.

Especially _this_ guest in particular.

_An attempt to earn my favour then_. The blonde's eyes narrowed slightly. _Or perhaps to get rid of the competition._

"Zabini, what brings you here?"

The other boy hissed and his crimson eyes flashed in anger. "Do not call me by that bastard's name!"

The blonde smirked. A cruel curl to his full lips as he cocked his head to the side, casually. Well, despite the years that had passed and changed the pair for the worst, it seemed that at least some things remained the same as always.

"Some things don't change," he drawled in dark amusement, prompting the other boy to glower at him a little before his handsome features morphed.

"You're right there, Drakey-boy," Blaise grinned evilly and tossed a waist-length braid of dark hair over his shoulder. Catching it in a tight grip. "You're still in dire need of a personality transplant."

"You're ignoring my question," Draco countered lowly. His eyes pinned Blaise with a look that promised death and his features hardened. "Now answer it."

"What? No hug?" Despite his intelligence, Blaise somehow failed to perceive the warning for what it truly was or perhaps he thought that their childhood bond still held.

Draco planned on remedying that problem as soon as possible.

"Not if that means a dagger in my back," Draco drawled out, not bothering to hide his contempt as he sneered at his old friend. The air around his body began to crackle and black flame started a slow dance at his finger tips. "I won't repeat myself. Now _speak_."

Blaise's eyes widened slightly and he paled for a moment.

"Actually, I'm here to see my baby brother," he replied. His voice had gone completely serious and his eyes took on a dangerous glint that had never once appeared in the years of Draco knowing him. "It was about time I did. Actually, I'm wondering how he'll receive my welcome. We didn't exactly part under the best of circumstances."

"I was unaware you had a brother," Draco stated, sceptically as he extinguished his flame.

"Yeah well, you're not the only one," the dusky demon recited with an offhand shrug. "I entrusted him to his sitters, but what a pack of useless imbeciles they turned out to be and now he's landed himself in a load of trouble that he can't dig himself out of. I don't think even _I_ can get him out of this, for that matter."

Draco didn't say a word more but mutely stood scrutinising the other boy before him.

Blaise had always been a particularly skilled individual when it came to lying. And using the story that he came to see some relative who was supposedly in need was hardly an original excuse. The fact that Blaise had come to help a family member at all was completely ludicrous and so _totally_ different to the Blaise that Draco once knew. _That_ Blaise cared little for anyone but himself and Draco, oddly enough.

_Although..._

"You want my protection," the blonde demon stated and observed as Blaise's eyes flickered slightly at the assertion. Draco's lips quirk upwards again in a twisted parody of a smile. "While you're here."

"I'm not much liked," the other admitted grudgingly and his eyes shifted sideways. "By the other members of the Dark Lord's Inner Circle."

Draco nodded in mock sympathy. "No, I don't suppose you are," he drawled. Delighting in the way that the other boy, who, not moments before seemed so self-assured appeared to be collapsing in on himself now. "I suspect that being the Dark Lord's favourite pet may have something to do with it."

"I've never slept with him," Blaise glared heatedly, then his expression became troubled.

"I couldn't care less if you did or not," Draco replied bluntly and folded his arms. He cocked his head slightly, casting part of his face in shadows as he observed the other. Blaise shuddered at his tone, prompting him to smirk inwardly. "What do I get out of this little arrangement, should I agree?"

"Another pair of eyes within Whitecliffe that won't stab you in the back the first chance they get?" Blaise answered derisively.

The blonde's eyes narrowed, unimpressed by the offer. He didn't say a word.

Blaise sighed loudly in frustration and shut his eyes, looking pained. "A vow of fealty? A network of eyes and ears within Britain as well as what remains of the European nations?"

Now _that_ surprised Draco. Not so much that Blaise was well connected, anyone with a high enough rank generally was. But the fact that the other boy was willing to surrender his resources for the sake of protection. Whatever the true reasons behind Blaise's arrival at Whitecliffe, it had to be important to the other boy to keep him there and force him to forfeit so much. He was clearly desperate.

A vow of fealty was not to be taken lightly.

"How long?" Draco asked curtly, thinking the deal over in his head quickly. He had his own network of informants scattered about but another totally unconnected set of contacts wouldn't go amiss should he need the information. And a vow of fealty was more than he could have wanted from Blaise, whose magic level came staggeringly close to his own.

"No longer than a week, should everything go as planned."

Draco gave a slight nod, still highly curious as to why the other boy was really there. "Have Severus see to the preparations," he ordered, then his face twisted in distaste at what he was to say next. Unfortunately, this would be the most effective way of announcing the darker boy's favour. "...And join me for breakfast."

Blaise looked truly startled for the first time during their conversation.

"No," he said, hastily and glanced away when Draco levelled a fierce look on him. "I was wanting you to conceal my presence here. That's all. I want no other favour. In fact, once that's done. You can forget you ever saw me."

_Intriguing..._ Draco mused. His interest on the subject piqued.

"I couldn't do that now," Draco drawled languidly and started circling around the other abruptly tense boy. "You know I'm aware of your true station in our Lord's ranks, so who have you been hired to kill? Or am I to remain in the dark about his newest target?"

It wouldn't be the first time the current demon ruler had picked off someone right under Draco's nose. Nor did he suspect it would be the last.

The other's crimson gaze shifted. "Keep out of this, Draco," the darker boy cautioned. "I'm warning you as an old friend to steer clear. I am not here for your head, which is enough for you to know."

_It's not my head I'm concerned about,_ Draco thought and debated on whether he should just force the other boy to tell him what he wanted to know or not. There was a danger in that, he knew. Like any other thing. The more people knew of a secret, the more likely that it would be accidentally revealed.

And some secrets were best to remain just that. Secret. Even he wasn't completely immune to that rule.

"Remember my question, Draco?" Blaise began, his blood-red eyes solemn and boring in frosty silver ones. "The one I asked you before I left four years ago, do you remember what I asked?"

"_Have you ever found something in this world that you'd give anything to protect? Even if you knew you were doomed to fail from the start? I have, that's why I'm accepting this placement."_

With a dark expression, the blonde inclined his head a little.

Blaise smiled enigmatically. "And what's your answer now?"

"Nothing," Draco replied in a detached drawl, he arched a pale blonde brow. Daring the other to call his bluff. "It's still nothing."

For long moments Blaise said no more. Just stood studying Draco in a very Harry-esque manner then shook his head. Seemingly disappointed. "Not the answer I was looking for," he said and stepped around Draco, dismissing him completely and severely pissing the blonde heir off.

The Blaise stopped at the chamber door, casting a distant look over his shoulder as his hand caught the ornate and heavy copper handle. "I'll make sure to drop by Snape's and inform him of our deal," he said and gave a respectful bow of his head. "Thank-you for this."

"Who are you after, Zabini?" Draco demanded, holding the other boy at the door by his gaze alone.

He decided that he had to know, because of every person Blaise had been sent to eliminate, none had ever escaped and despite his lie to the assassin, there _was_ one thing he was determined to protect.

Even if it was to be done from afar.

"Maybe there's hope for you yet, " Blaise replied with the smallest hint of a smile in his tone, then he turned the door knob and yanked it open with a sharp, almost ear splitting screech. "_Master_ Malfoy."

"Who are you here for?" Draco snarled, not above using his mind-stripping magic at this point if he were to get his answers.

"Blaise?"

The blonde's eyes darted passed the opened door and to the figure standing out in the hall, where he found Harry's jewel-like eyes adhered to Blaise. His cousin's already pale face was devoid of any colour and arranged in disbelief, while his eyes shone with an unfathomable anguish. Darkening the usually bright emeralds until they resembled the eyes of a doll's.

Glassy and dead.

A tiny smile found it's way to Blaise's lips. "Angel," he replied.


	4. Chapter three: Trust

Sorry for the lack in updates! I had been considering taking it down altogether since the themes and characterisation are all from the novel I'm writing. But I figure, it's different enough not to be plagiarism of my own work.

A **BIG** thanks to all the reviewers out there!

Despite the oddness of this story, I love it all the same and I'm glad that you guys also enjoy my madness :)

* * *

**Chapter three**

**Trust**

* * *

_I've never been a particularly easy person to get to know. At least, not once true understanding dawned. Though I can't honestly blame it on the way I was raised, even if it partially was. 'Lessons' that is what he called them and pressed upon me their importance, until I could recite every single one without issue—even backwards in my sleep. He was hard on me for a reason. I know that now, even if at the time I hated his methods. Pain, is a very powerful incentive._

_But nothing can teach one better than betrayal. _

---

Harry had always thought that Blaise had lovely eyes.

_The colour of passion,_ he thought peering into that familiar—yet somehow still far different—gaze. Involuntarily, he shivered. _The colour of blood._

He tried to fight the unwelcome torrent of emotions that surged up within him. Tried to fight a battle he knew was already long lost upon seeing Blaise and his beautiful crimson eyes. The same ones that seemed to have haunted him for years now. Eyes, that had at some point, once held all Harry thought he ever wanted in this world—warmth, comfort, a sense of belonging.

It seemed very little of anything was of comfort these days.

Closing his own tired eyes, Harry swallowed down the bile that crawled its way up his throat. He had foreseen Blaise's arrival and in some sick way had both longed for and dreaded it. He knew what the other's boy's appearance meant. If not the boy's significance in the grand scheme of things, then enough to know which part his old friend was to play, even if the boy himself for the moment was unaware of the entirety of it.

Not even Harry was aware of _that_.

"You're too late," the youngest of the pair managed to voice. It shook and he swallowed again, keeping his voice low. So it wouldn't crack. "Return to where you came from, Blaise."

The bronze-toned boy didn't bat an eyelash, nor did the tiny smile that graced his face vanish but Harry sensed the sudden change in him. Almost like an invisible switch had been flicked—one that only Harry himself was privy to. At least that much hadn't changed, when all else the Gryffindor remembered of his old friend had.

"You sound so certain," Blaise stated, with the barest hint of a question in his tone. Taking a step forward, he forced Harry another back. Then stopped, frowning a little at the green-eyed boy. Finally showing real emotion and betraying his own confusion. "A blessed vision from that cursed instrument of yours, I suppose." His voice held disapproval, but Harry knew what he meant. He tried not to flinch.

_You have no idea,_ Harry thought then forced himself to turn his back on the other boy, and began walking away. "Go back, Blaise," he cautioned a final time. Sounding terribly weary, his voice still hollow and heart sick. "There's nothing you can do."

"Angel—"

_I'm not your Angel, _Harry thought, suddenly sickened by the concept of it. He swallowed again and closed his eyes against the swirl of disgust in his chest. _Not anymore._

"Now Gabriel," came an extremely unwelcome drawl, causing Harry's breath to catch in his throat. His head snapped up and for the first time, notice that Blaise hadn't actually been alone in the room he'd come from. Harry felt all the blood drain cruelly from his face in a sick mimicry of exsanguination.

_Not now,_ Harry begged no one in particular. _Please... not now._

His prayers, as usual, went unanswered as Draco stalked from the lavishly decorated meeting room. His sharp eyes narrowed and alternatively peering from Harry to Blaise in distrust and a loathing so strong it was making Harry ill.

The blonde's body was tense—almost like he was ready for some sort of confrontation to suddenly take place. The Gryffindor could read it in the set of his cousin's shoulders and the way the blonde continued to hold himself, as furious sable flames danced eagerly at his fingertips and his eyes—slivers of ice—drank in the scene before him, appearing nonchalant.

Then Draco's eyes fixed themselves on Harry's pale face. "You never informed me you were _acquainted_ with the Court's Master Assassin," the blonde spoke, lowly and crossed his arms before he strangled his cousin or tore Blaise's heart from his chest and burned the rest of him to ash, like he was intending—once he received the answers to his many questions.

_I gave my word to keep you hidden from the others,_ Draco inwardly seethed as his mercurial gaze locked on Blaise, warningly,_ that doesn't mean I won't deal with you if I must._

"You never asked," Harry replied simply, not wanting to get into his cousin's little mind games. Not now, he wasn't quite up to it. Choosing to ignore the innuendo and the intense look Draco was now giving him altogether, Harry tilted his head to the side, sparing Blaise a quick glance. He just hoped Blaise kept his silence.

But it seemed everything was against him today.

The darker demon's eyes were observing Draco with a cool, almost calculating detachment. He had always been a very bright boy, even if he had made a habit of playing the idiot.

"I wouldn't call myself a mere _acquaintance_," Blaise interjected, his expression turning slightly smug. A smirk was slowly beginning to curl his lips upward and his eyes glittered with a ruthlessness that Harry had never believed the boy capable of. At least, not before... "We were _much_ closer than that," the dusky boy shifted his glance to Harry briefly. "Weren't we, Angel?"

"Is that so?" Was Draco's quietly murmured question. Softer than any summer breeze and yet shaper than a dagger's honed edge. His smile was venomous and without mercy. There was something else in his expression that Harry didn't quite understand. Nor did he like.

Thankfully though, he was saved his response by the baying of wolves from down the hall. As though summoned by the silent call of their master—and then, they appeared.

Two large wolf-like hounds, rode toward the trio on a wave of ash and cutting winds that tore around everything in it's path. It ripped at clothing, unravelled tapestries and threatened to erode the stones of the very castle itself. Filled the air with the overpowering scent of sulphur. The sound was the worst, though—a deafening, whirling, unearthly howl that reverberated through the very marrow of every beings' bones. Chilling the blood that pumped through veins and stilling the hearts of the most fearless of demon's.

It was said they were the forerunners. Those that would herald the coming of _Him_.

A name even Draco wasn't comfortable with speaking aloud. The name of his own ancestor. The very King of all the demon realm, who lay magically chained in the deepest reaches of Sheol. Where all but those of the _Fallen_ feared to tread.

Draco, however, was anything but scared when it came to these pitiful excuses that took the name of hell's hounds and turned merciless eyes on his cousin. "Called your lapdogs, did you? I must say, I'm disappointed," he intoned with a biting disapproval.

Harry said nothing, merely turned his head dejectedly away from his cousin's searing gaze and toward the hounds as they finally reached them, skidding to a halt that had ash flying every which way. Then one of the horse-sized dog's form began to warp. Lost it's great bulk and as it rose from all fours, became the figure of Cedric. His grey eyes fierce and barely this side of feral as he glared at Draco.

The other hound snarled, bearing large, glistening teeth, sharper than mirror shards.

"They aren't my lapdogs," Harry finally replied, before Cedric could speak and peered through the ash-storm, into his cousin's silvery eyes. His voice barely carried over the roaring wind. "They're called 'friends' something you're probably unfamiliar with."

With that, the younger cousin leapt up and onto the other hound's back. The warmth familiar as was the soft, charcoal-grey fur that he clung to. Longed to bury his face in and forget his troubles, but didn't and wouldn't. At least, not with his cousin standing there already thinking the worst of him. Glaring at him accusingly with his quick-silver eyes.

And there was nothing Harry could do to clear things up, without giving away too much and Blaise knew that as well. Though why he was playing up to that, Harry wasn't able to fathom. Though he knew he was still missing some vital chess pieces; the bishop was yet to make itself known as too the shadowy, indiscernible queen.

_The beginning of the end,_ Harry mused and looked away.

It didn't matter what Draco thought, he couldn't possibly hate Harry more than he already did and it wasn't like the latter cared anymore. _There's no use lying to yourself_, came a small, tired voice. Contradicting Harry's thought. _You'd still care, even if it was Draco lighting the bonfire you were to be burnt on._

That was, unfortunately, far truer than Harry was willing to admit.

"Give up, Blaise," was all he said, quietly, as Cedric changed back into his dog form and all three tore back down the hall, wrecking yet more havoc as they went. _There's nothing left to save_.

"This must be killing you," Blaise finally spoke once the two large hounds had vanished. Carrying Harry down the hall with them.

The Assassin found himself very quickly pinned to the wall behind him with his limbs secured by invisible bonds, allowing minimal movement or severe pain if he tried to move and Draco's long fingers, wrapped snugly around his throat, cutting off most of his air supply and searing his skin with blackened flames.

"You are to stay away from him," Draco snarled, fiercely. Eyes dark with malice, assuring a fate far worse than death. "Promise or no promise, cross me with this and you won't live to see another day."

Despite the clear threat, Blaise still found the humour to smirk at the blonde knowingly.

_What does he know?_ Draco thought, suspicion and fury warring within him. Hissing, the blonde smashed Blaise's head roughly against the wall. The sickening almost wet sounding _thump_ was like music to his ears, but none quite so much as the soft noise of pain that slipped passed the darker boy's lips.

He had been so careful with everything when it came to his cousin and now Blaise _knew_? He couldn't let that secret get out. If anyone else were to discover, it could be used against him—if not for revenge, then to gain better standing beneath Lord Voldemort or worse yet, Harry may find himself before the presence of the demon lord and then—

"How does it feel?" Blaise wheezed, drawing Draco's attention once more. The assassin still had the audacity to smirk and it was pissing the blonde demon off. Furiously, he sank his fingers into the other's skin, his nails pierced the soft, burned flesh but it didn't shut Blaise up as he added, "To finally want something, you can't have?"

Fear wasn't something Draco was familiar with, but he felt it now. Icy and coiled at the pit of his stomach. He shoved it brutally away. "What do you _know_?"

"Enough," Blaise breathed, hoarsely then gasped and let out an obnoxious hacking chuckle. Now clutching at the hands wrapped even more tightly around his neck. "But if you want to know, you need to ask Gabriel—it's his story to tell, not mine."

That hadn't been what Draco was meaning.

"I want to know everything, Zabini," Draco seethed and shook the other boy. There were a number of things that Draco hated with a passion. Though he never actually believed that Blaise Zabini, a friend from his childhood, would even top that list. "And you _will_ tell me, if I have to force it out of you."

His hand whipped back, ready to delved into the other's mind to take what he wanted to know if that's what it took. Ready to strip away anything and everything that may contain even traces of his cousin in the other boy's memory. Even if it rendered Blaise a complete vegetable in the process—Draco didn't give a shit.

Perhaps Blaise knew this too, because suddenly he gone. Had melted away into the shadows like the assassin he was.

"You have my allegiance," Blaise's voice echoed down the hall in a hush. His voice growing more distant. "But I don't have to part with my most intimate of thoughts."

"Fuck," Draco cursed viciously. The word resounded loudly along the corridor and cut into his ears. In his anger, he had completely forgotten about that little trick Blaise possessed and now the assassin had gotten away. Was wandering the halls somewhere.

Frustrated, Draco ran a hand shakily through his platinum locks. It seemed like there was no other way to go about this now. There was no other way out.

--xXx--

"I do hope you know what you're doing, Draco," Severus muttered.

He sounded like he didn't believe Draco did and not for the first time, the blonde wondered what it was that drew his cousin to the man then shook off the thought. It would do nothing more than irritate him. "A little faith in my abilities would go a long way," Draco muttered, as he paced before his godfather.

"Faith will not assist you when you have created a catastrophe you cannot undo."

Draco's head snapped up and he narrowed glittering silver eyes on the elder man. "What are you saying, Severus?" He questioned, softly.

The dark-haired male shook his head then settled dark eyes on the boy before him. "All I am saying is this; be _very_ careful of what you do when involving others in your little schemes. A cousin of yours Gabriel may be, but just remember that he does not possess the same immunity that you have taken for granted all these years."

_Immunity, _Draco sneered inwardly but understood the other perfectly. No one within the school had laid a finger on his cousin because of the boy's bodyguards and their penchant for turning into feral beasts that would shred limbs and bodies without a second thought—however, they were still boys and wouldn't stand a chance if pitted against the Generals that served the Dark Lord.

"My request has already been granted."

Severus sighed. A loud, weary exhale. "What of your mother, Draco? What does she have to say to all—this?" He gestured vaguely. No doubt having hoped Narcissa would have tried talking some sense into her son.

Carelessly, the young blonde shrugged. "She was pleased—"

"I do not see why," the alchemy master disagreed and became the recipient of a dark, silvery glare. He fixed the younger male with a stern expression, unaffected by the fierce look. "And your father, what has he to say?"

Draco merely snorted, indifferent. "I'll soon have what I want," he smirked darkly into his godfather's mirror. The long, gilded frame big enough to pass as a door and the silvered glass within enchanted, throwing back an almost glowing version of himself. Eyes glittering as they settled on reflection of his godfather. "That's all that matters. Nothing else."

"And you do not find it strange that you were granted this wish of yours with nary a question in regards?"

"No," Draco responded. Not bothering to keep his sneer in this time.

Severus finger's were at the bridge of his nose in an instant, pinching at it in the way that he did to ease his frustration or to calm himself down. "Lord save us all," he muttered under his breath.

The blonde turned and studied the other man but said nothing of his uttered words. Such things were punishable with death and were best forgotten. Especially now.

"Then if you already have this all planned out, what is it that you need of me?" Severus queried after a moment's pause. The question was dragged out, making Draco inwardly smirk. "Since it is perfectly clear it is not my opinion that you currently seek nor are you wanting for company—and do not desire mine."

"He comes to you at night, I know," Draco spoke and allowed his smirk to grace his features when he saw the other pale ever so slightly. Not enough to usually be noticeable, but Draco knew his godfather well and was aware that any visible acknowledgement to his guilt would be almost imperceptible.

Sweeping his arms wide, Draco took a seat at his godfather's desk. "And so, I lay in wait."

Draco had to hand it to the man, as Severus hastily slid back into his usual, dark and brooding visage. "You waste your time—"

"Am I?" The blonde questioned cuttingly, as he felt his irritation flare. "Has he grown bored of you so soon?"

Intrigued, Draco observed as the man he had looked up to as a father twitched—He always did that when he was a second away from losing his temper completely. "Draco," the man began tightly, "I have never laid a finger on him inapprop—"

"Don't you dare insult my intelligence by lying to me," Draco hissed out, lowly. "And if by some chance you haven't yet, wouldn't you just _love_ to?"

"Draco, that's enough," the elder stated, sharply. "You may be the Dark Lord's heir but to me you are still just a child. A disobedient and wilful but lost little boy. One I had hoped would grow up to make something of himself and the world, instead of merely following in the shadow of his predecessor but with the way you are currently acting—"

"Be very careful of what you say next, Severus," Draco warned, softly. There was no need for menace, the threat was enough.

For long moments neither spoke. Just stared at each other until Severus shook his head, almost scornfully as he regarded the young blonde demon. "Just like a spoiled little boy," he finished persistently, then sighed and withdrew a bottle of scotch from the cabinet by his bedside. He took a large swig without bothering to find a glass.

"Your cousin will not visit me tonight," he repeated, as he drifted over to his small bookcase and withdrew a book. "If he is to be found, he'll be in his own chambers or out on the tower."

With a mocking bow, Draco left the his godfather's private chambers.

"I do hope you know what you're doing, Draco," Severus repeated and took another swig of his alcohol, before he recapped it and returned it to his cabinet. "For all of our sakes."

--xXx--

Finding his cousin was easy. What Draco hadn't expected, was to discover said boy alone in his shared room, playing his violin in the dark.

"If you had been anyone else," Harry murmured, not looking up once as he drew his brow gently over the cursed violin's taut strings, drawing a sound soft as a whisper. "The wards on this room would have fried you." He looked up then and even in the half light, with it's twisted darkened hues his eyes shone like emerald flame. No longer glassy but renewed with vitality. "To what do I owe the pleasure, dear cousin?"

"More talkative now, I see," Draco observed as he paced forward, closer to Harry on the far side of the room.

"Questions, then," Harry murmured. Carefully placing Petunia to her case, he returned his attention to the blonde before him. With a flick of his wrist, the mirrored lanterns around the room sprang to life and saturated the room with a soft, comforting warmth.

It took away the chill that had been seeping into his bones and his crossed his arms expectantly.

Draco ignored him a moment and instead decided to appreciate the décor of the room. It wasn't anything like his own rooms, but were far nicer than anything else there was to offer in the castle. "Not so much questions," he conceded with a slow, victorious smirk curling the corner of his mouth and returned his gaze to his younger cousin and took a deliberate step forward, "As a statement."

Harry's pale, perfect face revealed his confusion.

"Where are the others?" Draco asked then, eyeing the door he had come through with no little amount of scorn. "I'd have thought that with Zabini on the loose, they'd have placed themselves firmly at your side and yet, here I am in your sleeping chambers without a guard in sight."

With an unconcerned shrug, Harry swept passed Draco and slipped his violin case into the trunk at the foot of his bed. Sealing it with a dull '_clunk_'. "What those two do in their free time is no concern of mine."

"Can't be fun playing third-wheel," Draco stated with an arrogant smirk.

Not bothering to dignify the blonde's words with a response, Harry glared at his cousin,. "Would you just get to what you're here for? I'm growing pretty damn tired of listening to your drivelling. So if you would just get on with it?" He made a rough gesture at the blonde, irritably.

"What's the matter?" Draco asked almost kindly, his face wiped perfectly clear. He leaned forward, absently noting the flash of something behind the deep green of Harry's eyes. "Hit a sore spot, did I?"

Harry ran a hand over his face. "And we're somehow back to this again," he said and considered his cousin, quietly. "Really Draco, I had thought we'd gotten over this already—"

"That we have," the elder boy acknowledged.

"Then?" Harry questioned, leadingly.

"My birthday's coming up soon, you know," Draco said coolly. His penetrating gaze fixed firmly on the boy before him and a small smirk marring his now almost aloof countenance.

Harry stared back at the other. His expression betraying his bewilderment. Draco's birthday was months away yet. "That's nice," he replied, perplexed. "But why are you telling me? It's not like we've ever celebrated each other's birthday." _Besides, you're more likely to curse the day of my birth._ Was the dark thought that flittered across his mind. He blinked it away.

The look on Draco's face became almost sinister and Harry was suddenly quite afraid of what the other was about to say.

"The Dark Lord has decided that for an early birthday present, he'll give me _whatever_ I desire so long as it's in his power to do so." The blonde demon's eye's glittered and his lips quirked in a darkly amused smile.

"And why should I care that he's gone and done that?"

Head cocked to the side, Draco regarded the the younger boy. "Can you think of nothing?" he inquired, quietly. Then suddenly leaned in—invading Harry's personal space—and reached out, stroking the soft skin of his cousin's cheek, the few dark glossy strands of hair that hung loosely around the other's ivory face. The touch far too intimate to that of a cousin, let alone someone close enough to be a brother.

It made Harry freeze. Draco had never touched him before, in _any_ kind of way. Not even to try shoving him down a flight of stairs. It was enough to send a chill down Harry's spine, like an icy wave of... _something_. He peered up at the elder male, feeling suddenly out of his depth and fell captive to his cousin's hypnotic darkening, silvery gaze.

"I want you."

_How could you be so cruel?_ Harry thought, numbly. Of all the possible things Draco could have done. "I won't be another of you slaves," he argued, fiercely. Though he was so sure that something inside him had just been broken irreparably and he had no idea how to fix it. "You have enough docile pets at your command to do your bidding. You don't need me, nor do you really want me."

Draco was annoyed, though he skilfully hid this. "And that would be where you're wrong," he insisted, withdrawing his hand. "I thought that this was what you wanted?" He murmured, and began circling his unnerved cousin. "To have a family. To be somewhere you are loved? I'm offering you all that."

"No Draco," Harry disagreed, watching the other cautiously. "What you're offering me is a life of servitude—" _Where I'll likely end up one of your toys._

The Dark Lord's heir chuckled, lowly and his eyes flashed. "You'll be my cherished little brother," he countered, a secretive curl about his lips. He ruffled the top of Harry's dark hair almost affectionately. "You'll finally have a Mother to dote on you, as you always dreamed. Father is somewhat distant, granted, but we don't need him and you'll have me as you always wanted. A big brother to take care of everything—with which to share everything. You won't need anyone else."

"A family?" Harry asked dubiously, hardly daring to believe as he peered up into the other boy's face. Hoping to find something that would betray the other's thoughts but there was nothing the Gryffindor was able to discern from Draco's expression. Nothing to reveal his lies. "As in, _full_ blood brothers?"

Draco gave a nonchalant shrug, though inwardly he was smirking. He had won and he knew it was all just a matter of time before everything sank into place. "I see you finally get the picture."

"Why?" Harry asked suspiciously.

The blonde's brow arched. "One doesn't usually look a gift horse in the mouth."

"_Why_?" Harry repeated, stubbornly. "You could have asked for _anything_. For _anyone_," he stated. Disbelief beginning to make itself known. "You could have had anyone you wanted."

_I could have anyone I wanted now, _Draco mused darkly, regarding his cousin with a silent appreciation. _Anyone, except you_. He took a step back and crossed his arms. His head casually cocked to the side. "And here I thought I was doing _you_ a favour and giving you what you wanted."

"Why now?" Harry asked quietly, glancing away from his cousin's face. _When you've had years before. Weeks...Days even. Why all of a sudden, are you wanting to play the role of the perfect big brother?_

A slight pause followed and then an angry, "Does it matter?"

No. It really didn't and both were well aware of that.

If Draco went through with this, Harry knew he'd have what he wanted, more or less but he'd be under the power of Draco as the eldest son and Heir of the Malfoy line. While still baring the title of Lord Black, it would become secondary and Harry would be protected beneath the Malfoy name. Beneath the protection of Draco himself. No one would dare touch him then. Not without inciting the wrath of a still very powerful and prominent demonic clan. One tied directly to the ruling Throne of the true Demon King and chosen heir of Voldemort.

_Still, some are reckless in their pursuits._

'_There's no such thing as fate,' _Blaise had told him, once. When they were younger, still impressionable and naïve. _'We pave the way to our own destinies. One of our own making. You'll see.'_

If Harry had believed him then, he did no longer now.

"Thank-you," was all he said and threw his arms around the larger boy, clearly taking him momentarily off guard and was himself startled when Draco returned it. One arm dug into the blade of Harry's shoulder while the other clutched the small of his back, pressing their bodies uncomfortably close. Until the heat between began to disturb Harry, as did Draco's heart beat which seemed so much louder than his own.

Silently he closed his eyes, willing away the discomfort and waiting for the other shoe to drop.

* * *

If you haven't worked it out yet, both Draco and Harry are quite warped. Although Draco's is a little more noticable in this chapter. And now after that you're all probably think "What the hell?"


End file.
